


It's a Dirty Free-For-All

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dirty Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Lap Dances, Legends, M/M, Minor John Diggle/Lyla Michaels, Minor Lisa Snart/Laurel Lance, Minor Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Minor Ray Palmer/Kendra Saunders, Never Have I Ever, Semi-Public Sex, Team Arrow, Team Flash, Various Other Pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6345850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon successfully defeating Vandal Savage, the Legends crew is welcomed home with a victory party thrown by Team Arrow and Team Flash. What starts off as a tense evening quickly devolves into a night of wild debauchery as booze and heavy bass lines come into play. The longer the night goes on, the harder Barry finds it to fight his feelings for one Legend in particular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Dirty Free-For-All

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. Holy crap, I mean seriously. Fair warning, this fic goes a little nuts and is probably bound to feature everything from your NOTP to your OTP and everything in between (that isn't incest because no). The endgame pairings are mostly as tagged, but don't say I didn't warn you about the various pit stops I make along the way.  
> Title taken from Ke$ha's [Take It Off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edP0L6LQzZE).

“A little to the left,” Thea calls to Diggle and Iris, neck craned to carefully inspect the banner hanging from one of the railings of Verdant’s upper landing. The pair slide it over, cloth crinkling, distorting the bright blue letters that spell out  _ Congratulations! _ in bold print. 

Thea sighs. “Sorry,” she says, scratching at her brow. “My left.” 

At a nearby table, Barry dumps a bag of kettle cooked chips into a bright pink bowl. Cisco, Caitlin, Laurel, and Lyla mull around the dance floor, inflating and arranging a plethora of helium balloons in iridescent colours that shine garishly as they catch the club’s dancing lights. To Barry’s right, Oliver deposits a giant box of cake, easily spanning four feet in length, down onto the table. Felicity follows behind him carrying a grocery bag of plastic plates and forks. 

“Everything set?” Felicity asks, fishing the items out of the bag and placing them beside the cake. 

Barry nods. “Just about, yeah,” he replies. 

Oliver’s face is set in a firm mask of disapproval. “I’m still not sure why we’re inviting Captain Cold and Heat Wave. Willingly showing them our faces. Our identities.” 

“How about because they literally saved the world as we know it?” Felicity offers, glaring at her fiancé with incredulity. 

“We can’t throw a victory party for the team that defeated Vandal Savage and not invite the whole team,” Barry reasons, giving Oliver an uncertain look. “Please, Oliver. At least  _ try  _ to be nice.”

“Alright,” Oliver huffs. “Fine. But I’m not happy about spending the evening with two criminals.” 

“Actually, it’s three,” Cisco correts, grimacing guiltily. The group looks over at him in confusion, so he elaborates. “I may have invited Lisa.” 

“Cisco,” Caitlin chastises, voice shrill. 

“What?” Cisco says, arms thrown out defensively. “Cold’s her brother. I thought it would be weird to not invite her to a party in his honour.”

Barry sighs. “Cisco’s right,” he says. “She does deserve to be here.” 

“I don’t like this, Barry,” Oliver warns, scowling. 

“Yeah, well, neither to I.” 

The voice surprises them all. The ten friends turn to see Lisa Snart standing near the club’s front doors, arms crossed defensively over her chest. She looks on edge, which makes sense, all things considered. 

“But this party’s for Lenny,” she continues. “And you can be damn well sure I’m not gonna let a couple of self-righteous vigilantes with a serious leather fetish keep me away.” 

“No,” Laurel says firmly, tying her shimmering balloon to a weighted string and dropping it. She approaches Lisa resolutely, nothing but welcoming as she smiles at the brunette. “It’s good you could make it,” she adds. 

Laurel offers her a hand, which Lisa cautiously takes. “I’m Laurel Lance,” the blonde says. “Otherwise known as the Black Canary.” 

“Lisa Snart,” the other woman replies. “Otherwise known as the Golden Glider. Though that’s no big secret.” 

Laurel chuckles good-naturedly. “It’s nice to meet you, Lisa,” she says, pulling her hand away. 

“Likewise,” Lisa returns. Then, she looks past Laurel to stare Oliver down. “Somehow, I don’t see that being true for the rest of Team Arrow.”

Laurel turns, following her gaze, and scoffs. “Ignore Oliver,” she says. “He’s too sanctimonious for his own good.” 

Oliver’s frown only deepens, but Laurel pays him no mind, instead taking Lisa by the arm and leading her over to the helium tanks, making light, friendly conversation as they walk. 

It isn’t long before the guests of honour arrive. Sara is first through the club’s doors, smile blinding and triumphant. 

“Guess who saved the world, bitches,” she trills, throwing her arms into the air victoriously. Laurel squeals and rushes to greet her sister, wrapping the other blonde in a bone-crushing hug. Sara hugs back just as tightly before pulling away to give Felicity the same treatment. 

“I’m glad to see you doing so well,” Sara whispers against the hacker’s ear. 

“I’m glad to see you doing well, too,” Felicity whispers back, rubbing a hand up and down Sara’s back. 

As Sara moves to hug the rest of Team Arrow, the remaining members of the Legends crew trickle in. Captain Cold and Heat Wave take up the rear, examining their surroundings intently, postures stiff and guarded. Lisa spots them and waves, smile bright. The shift in the pair’s mood is almost imperceptible, but it catches Barry notice nonetheless. 

When Lisa reaches her brother’s side, she’s quick to throw her arms around his neck, hopping up on her toes to press into his space. Barry is surprised by how easily the other man responds, arms snaking around Lisa’s waist. He whispers something into her ear with a smile, and Barry is struck by the intimacy of the moment. He knows the Snart siblings are close, of course. The strength of their relationship has been proven time and time again. What takes Barry aback is how casual they are with their affection. It seems almost odd for the older man, out of character even.

Lisa draws back and offers Mick the same warm embrace, which the arsonist returns. He says something to Lisa and the brunette explodes in a fit of laughter, head thrown back expressively. Cold watches her, eyes fond and adoring. It’s the most open Barry’s ever seen him, and he can’t help feeling that he isn’t meant to. So he looks away. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” Ray tells Felicity and Oliver as he pulls away from hugging the blonde. “That is back on, right?” 

Felicity chuckles. “It is, indeed,” she replies, looking up at Oliver over her shoulder with a smile. 

“Where’s Professor Stein?” Caitlin asks Jax, looking around the open space for the scientist. 

“Grey had Hunter drop him off in Central,” Firestorm’s younger half explains. “He said he sends his regards or whatever, but he wanted to get home to his wife.” 

“Of course,” Caitlin says, nodding in understanding.  

“As far as I knew,” Cold calls, entering the club further and taking a considering look around. “This place was closed down.” 

Thea’s arms cross over her chest. “It may technically be closed for business,” she replies. “But I do still own the place. No reason I can’t throw a party on my own property, now is there, Snart?” 

The older man scoffs. “Call me Len,” he drawls, eyebrow raising. “Otherwise, this is going to be a very long night.” 

“Like that’s gonna help things,” Dig mumbles, glancing over at Oliver, who’s still as rigid as a plank. 

“The bar stocked?” Sara asks Thea, already making her way over. 

“Liberally,” Thea replies. A hint of relief colours her tone at the prospect of alleviating the evening’s tension with copious amounts of alcohol. Barry can’t say he blames her. “I’m going to go put on some music.” 

The rest of the group ambles over to the bar as Sara breaks out bottle after bottle of various spirits and sodas. Lisa eyes Laurel curiously as the blonde pours sparkling water, lime juice, and mint syrup over a generous helping of ice. She garnishes the drink with a sprig of mint and a bright green crazy straw before taking a satisfied sip. 

“No booze?” Lisa questions, eyebrow raised, chin nodding toward Laurel’s drink. 

Laurel laughs. “I’m an alcoholic, actually,” she replies, frank and honest. “Been sober just over two years now.” 

“Congratulations,” Lisa says with a small, uncertain smile. Laurel scoffs and rolls her eyes. “No, I’m serious,” the brunette insists, more firm this time. “Addiction’s a real bitch. People fight their whole lives with it. And not everyone wins. So, good for you.” 

“Thanks,” Laurel says, eyes softening. 

In response, Lisa just nods. Then, she goes about pouring a drink of her own. 

Soon, the ragtag group all have full cups, and they break into smaller factions to make small talk. Barry spends most of the time chatting with Ray and Kendra, though he can’t help throwing covert glances Len’s way. The older man stands stoically with Mick, his sister, Sara, and Laurel. Every now and again, Barry sees him offer a small comment, but otherwise, he remains silent. He doesn’t appear uncomfortable, however, Barry thinks. Simply content to let the others talk amongst themselves and enjoy their contributions. 

They’re an hour into the party when Thea slams a tray of shot glasses onto a nearby table along with a nearly full bottle of tequila. “Who’s up for a little game of Never Have I Ever?”   

While some are more excited by the proposition than others, Thea eventually wrangles the entire group around a series of rounded tables shoved together in a makeshift rectangle. 

Barry picks up the full shot Thea places before him and examines it critically. “You know I can’t actually get drunk, right,” he says. 

“No,” Thea agrees. “But you can still suffer through the burning torment of cheap liquor like the rest of us.” 

Barry shrugs, deciding her logic is decent enough, and places the glass back on the table. 

“Who wants to start?” Thea asks, and immediately, Cisco perks up. 

“Oh, I’ve so got this,” the engineer says. He stares pointedly across the table at the Rogues and declares, “never have I ever been arrested.” 

Without hesitation, Len, Lisa, and Mick knock back their shots. Lisa’s lips curl up in disgust as she slams the empty glass back on the tabletop. 

“You do know vigilantism is illegal, too, right?” Len drawls, glaring at Cisco. “It’s hardly my fault I get arrested for my crimes, meanwhile Flash over here gets the key to the city for his.” 

“Speaking of illegal vigilantism,” Felicity mutters before taking her own shot. Oliver, Diggle, Thea, and Lyla all take theirs too. Laurel sips sheepishly through the swirls of her straw.  

Mick looks almost impressed. “Maybe I underestimated Team Straight-As-An-Arrow.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dig says, huffing out a little laugh. “We’re just full of surprises.” 

“Two can play at this game,” Len interjects suddenly, leaning forward to stare Cisco down. The young engineer gulps nervously. “Never have I ever kissed the Golden Glider,” the thief says, and Cisco whines. 

“Not fair, dude,” he grumbles. “That was a targeted attack.”

Cisco’s the only one to take a drink. 

“I’ll go next,” Lisa chirps. She looks over at her brother slyly as Cisco begins refilling his glass. “Never have I ever been in a threesome,” she says pointedly. 

Len laughs and knocks back his shot shamelessly. He’s followed by the rest of the Legends crew seconds later. 

Felicity splutters awkwardly, in true Felicity fashion. “I guess Sara really wasn’t kidding when she called the Waverider the Orgy Ship,” she babbles, face flushed. 

“Yes, well,” Len replies, leaning back in his chair self-assuredly. “There’s only so much playing cards a civilized person can stand when trapped for weeks on end in the temporal zone.” 

Barry finds his mind running wild at Len’s easy confession. He takes a quick look down the table at the other Legends, laughing carelessly and offering one another gentle elbowings and waggling eyebrows. Barry had only gone on one mission with the time travelers, and the whole ordeal hadn’t lasted more than a day. Now, though, he can’t help but wonder what might have happened if he stuck around longer.

Barry has long since given up on lying to himself. He’s attracted to Leonard Snart. Something in the older man’s eyes draws Barry in. They’re filled with mischief, and danger, and provocation. Never mind the controlled confidence with which the thief carries himself. Len is capable and commanding in all the ways Barry is still blundering and wet behind the ears. He knows he should find the unbalance of power disquieting and objectionable, but all it does is turn him on. 

There are other parts of Barry’s mind, parts he tries his best to silence, that see beyond the Captain Cold facade Len’s meticulously crafted. These clamorous voices speak of his honour, and his bravery, and his loyalty. Things that can’t be chalked up so easily to errant hormones. 

“Hey,” Sara snaps, derailing Barry’s train of thought. She’s leaned over the table, glaring at Oliver, seated at the far end, drink untouched. “Don’t be full of shit. Take your shot.” 

“I would,” Oliver replies, arms crossing over his chest defensively. “Except for the fact that I haven’t ever had a threesome.” 

“Notorious party boy Oliver Queen has never had a threesome,” Sara repeats, voice full of sarcasm, brow raising. “In fact, I’ve never  _ been in _ a threesome with notorious party boy Oliver Queen.” 

“You haven’t,” Oliver agrees. 

Sara glares. “Is that so?” she challenges. 

Oliver hides a wicked grin behind the amber liquid in his shot glass as he raises it. “It was actually a foursome,” he corrects, but he throws the drink back anyway, because that’s close enough. 

Thea cringes. “I did not need to know that,” she mutters. Then, she turns to her brother and sighs, head shaking in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Oliver. How is it you only have one illegitimate child, exactly?” 

“Speaking of children,” Felicity cuts in, grasping Oliver’s glass off the table to fill it with more tequila. “Never have I ever become a parent.” 

The hacker hands the freshly-poured shot to her fiancé and he drinks it dutifully. Dig and Lyla drink, too, as does Kendra. When the others give her strange looks, she’s quick to explain. 

“I’m counting my past lives,” the hawk goddess says. “Because I’m special like that.” 

“Our friends aren’t like other people’s friends, are they?” Cisco muses quietly. Barry laughs and claps him comfortingly on the shoulder. 

“I’ve got one,” Sara announces, picking up her glass. “Never have I ever fooled around with someone of the same gender.” 

She takes the shot brazenly and slams the empty glass back on the table with a resounding  _ thud _ .

Len looks over at her and chuckles. “You do realize the point of this game is to avoid drinking?” he drawls, taking his own shot glass in hand and hovering it in front of his lips. 

Sara scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

Len laughs at her flippant reply before tipping his head back, letting the cheap liquor slide down his throat. Barry’s eyes catch on the bob of the other man’s Adam’s apple as he swallows and it causes a sudden heat to flare through his body in the way alcohol can’t anymore. Len’s lower lip glistens as a lingering drop of tequila falls from the glass and settles on his skin. A pink tongue darts out to lick it away, and it has Barry transfixed. 

He’s so caught up in the pull of Len’s body it almost doesn’t register what taking that shot implies. That Len is interested in men. Or has at least hooked up with one at some point. Barry’s always been careful in his fantasies. He can’t face another Iris again. Can’t let himself become so wrapped up in someone who isn’t going to want him back. So he’s never really let himself consider what it might be like to be with Len. Because, for all the attraction Barry feels, the other man will never even be  _ capable  _ of returning it. 

Except that he is. 

Barry’s shaken from his thoughts as the rest of the Legends crew being knocking back their shots to a chorus of raucous laughter. Lisa drinks too, unabashed. Then, to everyone’s surprise, so does Oliver. 

Felicity looks over at him with wide, vexed eyes. “What?” she yips, completely taken aback. “Why didn’t I know about this?” 

Oliver laughs, shaking his head and offering his fiancée a small shrug. “College was a very interesting time for me,” he replies. 

Barry stares down at his own shot glass for a moment before it occurs to him that, yes, he should probably drink, too. Unless the four months he spent dating a man in college was in fact some strange sort of hallucination. 

Barry grabs at his drink with nervous fingers, grip tight to mask the trembling. He isn’t  _ in _ , exactly. Iris knows, and Joe knows. Felicity knows. His colleagues at S.T.A.R. Labs know. His bisexuality isn’t something he’s ever hidden. He’s just never been the type to be so cavalier about sharing it, either. 

Still, Barry obediently takes his shot. He winces as the tequila scorches his throat. Thea wasn’t kidding about burning torment. 

When he looks back down, Barry notices Len watching him. He can’t read the other man’s expression, but it makes heat pool low in his abdomen. 

“Is that seriously it?” Sara asks, cutting through whatever moment Barry and Len are sharing. The blonde looks around the table disapprovingly. “I mean, come one. Everyone’s a little bit gay when the bass drops.” 

“Sara, you’re a little bit gay all the time,” Len reminds her, shooting her a lazy frown. 

“Look who’s talking,” Sara rebukes. She kicks playfully at the legs of Len’s chair where he’s perched, leaned back on two legs. He drops the front legs to the ground again and frowns deeper, though the corner of his lips turns up in a smirk. 

“Meanie,” Len teases. Sara sticks her tongue out at him, the pinnacle of maturity.

From further down the table, Thea clears her throat uncomfortably. “Um,” she begins. “Just to be clear, what are we saying qualifies as fooling around?”  

Sara considers this thoughtfully for a moment. “An enthusiastic exchange of saliva,” she replies finally. “With at least  _ some  _ groping, either over or under the clothes.” 

Thea nods quickly, lips pursed, then throws back her shot. Iris and Cisco sheepishly do the same. Perched on top of a table at the far end of the group, Laurel slurps noisily through her straw, down to nothing but ice in her cup. 

Felicity shoots Oliver an apologetic smile before she becomes the last to drink. Oliver laughs, half hysterical, half judgemental. 

“Who’s keeping secrets from who now?” he accuses, though it’s mostly teasing, and Felicity turns the brightest shade of crimson Barry’s even seen a human being turn. 

“Call it even?” the hacker proposes. Oliver shakes his head, still in disbelief, but wraps an arm around his fiancées shoulders and presses a fond kiss to the top of her head. 

“Speaking of basses dropping,” Sara says, sliding back in her chair and coming to a stand. “I find myself in a bit of a dancing mood.” She rounds the back of Len’s chair and places her hands on his shoulders. “What do you say, Leonard?” she continues. “If memory serves, you still owe me a dance from 1975.” 

With a dramatic sigh that’s entirely too put on, Len rises from his seat, spinning around to grab Sara’s hand. “Fine,” he huffs. “If you insist.” 

Len leads her out onto the dance floor, hips already swaying to the pulsating beat, and Sara’s steady stride falters into a quick, excited skip. Len tugs on their joined hands and pulls the former assassin in, both hands falling to her waist. Sara wraps her arms around his neck and throws her head back in laughter. Their bodies move in perfect harmony, smooth and synchronized. 

“Care to dance, Ms. Saunders?” Ray whispers into Kendra’s ear, hand resting scandalously low on her back from the chair beside her.

“Of course, Dr. Palmer,” she whispers back, smile coy. 

As the couple leaves the table, Felicity and Oliver follow. 

“You feel like recapturing our youth, Johnny?” Lyla asks her husband, coming to a stand. 

Diggle gives her a warm smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies. “You look every bit as young as you did the day I first met you.” 

Lyla snorts. “Tell that to all the sagging.” 

Coming up behind her, Dig wraps his arms around her waist. “I think the sagging’s sexy,” he says. Lyla laughs, but she goes along willingly as Diggle pushes her forward.  

One by one, the others file out onto the dance floor until only Barry and Lisa are left, sitting relatively close. Both are focused on watching her brother, though Barry think their motives are wildly different. 

Out under the flashing lights, Sara calls to Ray over Len’s shoulder. Ray shoots her a wicked smirk and suddenly, Sara’s slipping from Len’s arms to tangle herself up in Kendra. The women dance face to face, Sara’s fingers threading through the brunette’s hair, leg sliding between hers to press even closer. Ray, for his part, gabs onto Len’s hips from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. Len relaxes into him, hands taking hold of the physicist’s own to slide them further around his waist. The whole transition happens in a matter of seconds, rhythm undisturbed, like part of the natural ebb and flow of the music. 

“Wow,” Lisa says quietly, almost to herself, Barry thinks. “These people must really be something special.” 

Barry’s brow furrows, and he looks over at her. “How’s that?” he asks hesitantly, not sure if she’ll continue sharing now that she realizes someone’s listening. 

“My brother’s never been big on touching,” Lisa replies, eyes still tracking the man in question. “Bad memories and all. He’ll do it for a job, sure, but that’s different. Controlled. There, he’s got the upper hand. Given that the little blonde one could probably kill him seven different ways with a cocktail pick, I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.” 

Lisa shuffles back in her seat, then downs the rest of her drink in one gulp. “He must trust them,” she continues. “Which sounds simple enough. But, for Lenny, it’s huge. I’m happy for him.” 

“Me too,” Barry says quietly. Lisa looks over at him, curious, but before she can ask, Iris and Laurel are running up to the table, arms outstretched. 

“Barry,” Iris exclaims, taking him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. “You can’t just sit here all night.” 

“Iris,” Barry stammers, reluctant. “I don’t know if I’m up to dancing right now.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iris replies. “The apocalypse has literally just been circumvented. Get your ass out on the dance floor and party so hard you’ll regret it all tomorrow because, lucky for us, there’ll still be one.” 

“You know Savage wouldn’t have taken over the world for another hundred plus years, right?” Barry asks. 

Iris frowns. “Don’t ruin the fun, Barry,” she chastises. “That was Oliver’s job. And, honestly, he seems over it already.” 

Barry follows Iris’s gaze to where the aforementioned downer and his fiancée are caught up in a slow grind, lips locking. 

Barry sighs. “Alright, fine,” he relents, letting Iris drag him out to dance with the others. 

“Thea ditched me for Jax,” Laurel says, eyeing Lisa hopefully. She hasn’t gone the Iris route and pulled the brunette to her feet already, but it’s a near thing. “You wanna dance?” 

Lisa smirks. She sets her glass down and stands, circling the table to wrap her arm around Laurel’s waist. She leans into the blonde’s space and whispers in her ear. “Sure thing, Cutie.”  

Out on the dance floor, Iris runs her hands gently over Barry’s shoulders, concerned frown wrinkling her forehead. “You seem tense,” she says. 

Barry shakes his head. “It’s fine, Iris,” the speedster replies. “Really.” 

“Is it about what happened during Never Have I Ever?” she asks, still frowning. For a moment, Barry thinks she’s picked up on his feelings for Len, though he thought he’d been doing a decent job of hiding them, but then she continues. “Because, Barry, if you weren’t comfortable coming out to everyone all at once, you didn’t have to. Nobody would have thought badly of you.” 

“What?” Barry splutters, looking down at Iris in confusion. “No, Iris, that’s not it at all.”

“So you’re not anxious?” Iris says, dubious. 

Barry shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “Or, yes. But not about coming out. I’m not trying to live my whole life in the closet. If it comes up, I’m honest. And it came up. But, seriously, that has nothing to do with what I’m feeling right now.” 

Iris is quiet for a moment, letting their bodies move to the thrum of the bass. “Then what does?” she asks finally. 

“I don’t know,” Barry says, shrugging. “I guess it’s just weird, hanging out with the Rogues in such a friendly setting.”  

He’s never been very good at lying to Iris, but the half-truth seems to convince her and she nods. “Okay,” she says. “Just know that you can always talk to me whenever. About anything.” 

Barry smiles, soft and genuine. “I know, Iris.” 

Their tender moment is interrupted as Kendra come up behind them and places a hand on Iris’s shoulder. The hawk goddess looks up at Barry and smirks. “Mind if I steal her?” she asks. 

“Be my guest,” Barry says. Then, he turns to Iris and gives her a questioning look. “Iris?” 

“Absolutely,” Iris agrees, smile bright. “Although, I’ve gotta ask. Is that okay? I thought you and Ray were kind of an item?” 

Iris glances skeptically over to where Ray, Len, and Sara are grinding shamelessly in time with the music and she frowns. “Though maybe not.” 

“Oh, we are,” Kendra assures her. “But after 4,000 years of literal undying monogamy and being someone’s soulmate, I thought maybe I should shake things up this lifetime, you know?” 

“Hey,” Iris says with a chuckle. “Power to you, girl.” 

Kendra responds with a wicked grin and pulls Iris into her arms. 

It’s only seconds later that Caitlin stumbles to Barry’s side and takes him by the arm. “Dance with me, Barry,” the scientist yells over the thundering bass. 

Before Barry can reply, she’s dragged him to the center of the dance floor, right in the thick of the most salacious action. She wobbles a little, not the most graceful of drunks, so Barry wraps his hands firmly around her waist and holds her close. Caitlin begins to sway rather than grind, and Barry settles into the pleasant familiarity of their bodies moving together. 

A wolf whistle from Oliver cuts over the music, and Barry turns his attention to the hooded vigilante. He’s curled around Felicity’s back, rocking gently against her, as the pair watch Sara dancing. The former assassin is pressed into Len, who is in turn pressed into Ray, and she offers the couple a lewd smile. 

“Oh, yeah,” Felicity calls, her tone competitive and goading. “Well, two can play at that game.” She turns, eyes scanning the crowd appraisingly. When she spots Barry, she perks up. 

“Barry,” the blonde calls, waving him forward. 

The invitation is clear, but Barry glances uncertainly up at Oliver, checking for the other man’s approval. Oliver gives him a small nod, head tilting to welcome him over as well. Slowly, Barry disentangles himself from Caitlin’s arms and steps forward, still a little wary. 

“Get it, Barry,” Caitlin calls after him, laughter maniacal. Cisco comes up behind her, curling his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. He joins the doctor in her provocative hooting and hollering. 

Barry comes to a stop, unsure, in front of the couple. Felicity smiles flirtatiously and grabs him by the belt loops, pulling him in. His arms hover, uncertain of where they’re allowed to land. Dancing with Iris and Caitlin had been easy, the camaraderie between them creating very specific rules. Felicity was another man’s fiancée. Another man’s fiancée he’s kissed and seen in a bra, though the latter definitely occurred under less sexy, more flammable circumstances. 

“Relax, Barry,” Oliver says softly. His strong hands move from around Felicity’s waist to settle low on Barry’s hips, fingertips brushing the swell of his ass. Barry can feel the heat of Oliver’s hands through his jeans. He grips onto Oliver’s shoulders, elbows brushing against Felicity’s clavicles. 

The trio fall into a steady rhythm, bodies grinding, hips rolling. The air between them is impossibly hot, and Barry feels steady drips of sweat roll down the column of his spine. As the music builds toward a hard bass drop, they pivot gently in place, and suddenly, over Oliver’s right shoulder, Barry and Len lock eyes. 

The air leaves Barry’s lungs in a rush, and he sucks in a shuddering breath to compensate. He can feel his insides liquefying under Len’s intense gaze. The sweat on his neck goes from overbearingly hot to freezing cold, chills raising gooseflesh on his arms. Barry’s toes curl painfully in his shoes. For a fleeting moment, the hands on his hips are no longer Oliver’s. They’re Len’s, firm and searing. 

The illusion in broken when Caitlin stumbles into Barry’s side, tugging on his arm. “Barry,” she whines. “Come dance with me again.” 

Barry scrambles to regain his composure. “Where’s Cisco?” he asks, looking around for the engineer. 

“Dancing with Lisa and Laurel,” Caitlin replies, sigh heavy. “And he left me all by myself.” 

Barry chuckles. “It’s okay, Cait,” he says. “I’ll dance with you.” 

He pulls out of Oliver and Felicity’s arms to manhandle the doctor across the floor. In his absence, Sara moves from her partners to take his place. The couple welcome her just as willingly as they had Barry, ensnaring her in the tangle of their limbs.

The easy lull of mindless dancing continues for nearly another half hour. Barry isn’t entirely sure why - outside of the tequila - but eventually, the peace is broken as Ray loudly announces, “man, I’ve always wanted to give someone a lap dance to this song.”  

Which Sara, of course, takes and runs with. 

In a matter of minutes, there’s a chair set up on stage, angled sideways to allow for maximum viewing pleasure. Sara drags Kendra forward and settles her into the seat, firm hands on her shoulders. It’s obvious that Kendra could protest if she wanted to, but instead, the brunette hangs her head, blushing furiously, and goes along with Sara’s wildly inappropriate plan. 

Ray, for his part, is pacing nervously at the other end of the stage, stretching his limbs and rolling his shoulders like an athlete. He pants out a few quick breaths, bouncing on his toes, psyching himself up. 

“You know, Raymond,” Len drawls from the floor, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “Just because you’ve seen Magic Mike once doesn’t mean you know the first thing about how to be sexy.” 

“Yeah,” Ray scoffs, eyes rolling. “Let’s pretend I’ve only seen Magic Mike once.”  

“I’m ready on your cue,” Thea calls from the sound system, ready to start the music. “But first,” she adds, finger falling pensively to her chin. “You need a good stripper name.” 

Ray seems to seriously consider this for a moment. “How about The Atomic Bulge,” he suggests, eyebrows waggling. 

Mick huffs a laugh. “I think you’re being a little generous,” he says. 

Ray offers the arsonist a challenging look. “Are you saying you’ve had better?” he quips. 

“I think we both know the answer to that, Pretty Boy,” Mick replies, giving Len a pointed look. Len practically preens, smug smile overtaking his face, as he nods his assent.  

Sara and Kendra cackle as Ray’s face falls, reminiscent of a kicked puppy. 

“Pretty Boy Palmer,” Thea says, contemplative. “I like it.” 

“Just play the stupid music,” Ray grumbles, still a little sour. 

Thea laughs and presses play on the system. When the beat starts, Ray stalks forward. He raises an arm and points to Kendra with one finger, pursing his lips in an attempt at seduction. Kendra only laughs harder. 

Ray, trooper that he is, plugs on. He swings a leg over Kendra’s chair and slides forward into her lap. Her laughter halts abruptly as the physicist rolls his hips. His hands grab the back of her chair and he does it again, this time following the trail upward, rubbing himself almost impalpably against her stomach. The brunette’s breath catches and she looks up at him, eyes wide, fingers gripping the edge of her seat. Ray bends at the neck to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear before pulling back and rolling forward again. 

And again. 

And again. 

It’s a valiant effort, if a bit repetitive, which is the exact critique Sara offers after a few more of Ray’s suggestive thrusts. 

“And, of course, as always,” Sara continues, moving to pull a dejected Ray back. “You should really just take a step back and let a queer girl show you how it’s done.”  

Seamlessly, Sara slides into Ray’s place. She straddles Kendra’s thighs and grinds forward. Wrapping a hand through Kendra’s hair, she yanks back, exposing the long column of her throat. Sara drags the tip of her nose from between the other woman’s clavicles up to the jut of her chin, breath spilling hot and heavy from her mouth. Kendra shivers as Sara follows the same line back down with her tongue. 

Slipping back, Sara braces her hands on Kendra’s thighs and pushes them open. She drops to her knees and runs her hands up the insides of the brunette’s legs. Kendra suks in a ragged gasp as Sara crawls forward. When she’s close enough for Kendra to feel her breath through the crotch of her jeans, the blonde pushes to her feet and spins, sitting down on her lap and grinding her ass back filthily, one hand raising to wrap itself around the back of Kendra’s neck. 

Giggling, Kendra wraps an arm around Sara’s waist and presses a small kiss to the corner of her jaw. Then, she looks up at Ray with an apologetic smile. 

“I think we have a winner,” Kendra says, slightly out of breath. Ray pouts and she chuckles. “Sorry, Honey.” 

Sara looks up at Ray and smiles with far less sympathy. “Yeah,” the blonde says. “Sorry, Honey.” 

Thea pauses the music, demonstration over, but Cisco’s voice soon cuts through the silence. “Pftt! I could do that, too,” the engineer declares, all swagger and confidence. 

Suddenly, Cisco has Barry by the wrist, dragging him up on stage toward the chair Kendra and Sara have just vacated. He shoves Barry down unceremoniously to the raucous laughter of the group. 

“Cisco,” Barry squakes when he regains his bearings. 

“Come on, dude,” Cisco says, arms waving imploringly. “Let the people see what Cisco Ramon’s got going on.” 

He stretches the  _ o  _ sound, forcing a rhyme, and Barry can’t help but laugh. “Okay,” the speedster says. “Fine. Gimme what you got.” 

“Madame DJ?” Cisco prompts, turning to Thea. The brunette turns the music on with a chuckle, head shaking. 

As the steady beat begins thundering through the speakers, Cisco hips start to sway. He mouths along to the provocative lyrics, and Barry has to cover his mouth to hide his laughter. The engineer saunters forward, thrusting gracelessly. When he moves to straddle Barry’s legs, he swings his head from side to side, hair whipping across his face in a way that’s nowhere near as sexy as intended.  

After another few ridiculous attempts at asserting his sexual prowess, Barry can no longer contain his laughter. “Dude, you’re horrible at this,” he says, head shaking.

Cisco’s eye narrow. “Oh yeah?” he huffs. “You think you can do better?” 

Barry starts to stutter out a protest, but a voice catches him off guard. “Yeah, Barry.” 

The speedster cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at where Leonard Snart stands, eyebrow raised in provocation, staring intently at him, gaze searing. “Think you can do better?” 

Barry’s whole body ignites. Moving at superspeed, he grabs Cisco by the backs of his thighs and flips their positions. Legs still wrapped tightly around him, Barry snaps his hips forward, rocking Cisco back in his chair. The engineer’s lips fall open in surprise, and he grabs quickly onto Barry’s shoulders to steady himself. Barry hardly notices, eyes still locked with Len. 

He rocks forward again. This time his hips move in a slow, demanding roll. Barry watches as Len’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, and it spurs him on. He grinds forward again, the hand on one of Cisco’s thighs hitching it higher. 

In another burst of speed, Barry presses Cisco’s legs firmly together and straddles him, one knee braced on either side of the chair. With powerful thighs, he lifts himself up before slowly grinding back down, holding Len’s gaze all the while. He continues the lurid pantomime, chest rising and falling heavily. Barry bites his lip, and Len visibly draws in a ragged breath. 

“Okay, Barry,” Cisco says, clearly impressed. “Like, damn, son.” 

The other man’s voice breaks through the fog of lust consuming Barry, and he quickly pulls away, sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before offering Cisco a hand to help him to his feet. 

“How do I get that to happen to me?” Felicity asks from the floor, still a little hypnotized by Barry’s scandalous display. 

Oliver laughs and grabs her around the waist, picking her easily up off her feet and swaying to the beat. She shrieks, caught off guard, and clutches onto his arms, devolving into a fit of giggles. 

“I’ll give you something even better,” Oliver whispers, lips brushing the back of her ear, before moving to kiss her neck, all the while leading her away to the dance floor. 

“So,” Lisa muses, hand snaking around Laurel’s waist. “Do both Lance sisters know how to move like that?” 

Laurel chuckles and looks over her shoulder coyly at the brunette. “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself,” she replies. 

Soon, all the partygoers trickle back onto the dance floor. Iris grabs Barry’s arm and leads him into the thick of the crowd. Beside them, Sara dances, pressed between Ray and Kendra. The blonde leans forward and captures Kendra’s lips in a passionate kiss. Then, she pulls away, tipping her head back onto Ray’s shoulder. The man smiles down at her and ducks his head, kissing Sara lazy and slow, nose bumping against her chin. 

“So,” Iris shouts over the music, catching Barry’s attention. It’s loud enough to be heard, but still too faint to risk being overheard. “When you said it was weird hanging out with the Rogues in a friendly setting, you didn’t mention it was because you have a total hard on for Captain Cold.” 

Barry nearly chokes on air. “What?” he yips. “Iris, no.” 

“Iris, yes,” the journalist replies. “You are abysmal at subtlety, Barry. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.”  

Barry sighs, caught out. “Okay, fine,” he says. “Maybe I find Len attractive.” 

“Len?” Iris repeats, her smirk totally self-satisfied. 

Barry flushes. “He said we should call him that, alright,” he defends. “Besides, it ultimately doesn’t matter. We’re on opposite sides. It would never go anywhere.” 

“Who says it has to go anywhere?” Iris challenges, eyebrow raised. Barry shrugs half-heartedly, and that’s when Iris finally seems to understand the scope of his feelings. “Oh, my God, Barry,” she gasps. “You actually like Cold.” 

Barry shrugs again. “Well, yeah,” he says miserably. “He’s amazing, Iris. Witty, and handsome, and sarcastic as hell. Not to mention how brilliant he is. I mean, he’s just a regular guy, and he still manages to always one-up  _ me _ ,  _ The Flash _ . He’s competent and self-assured.” 

Barry sighs and looks down at his feet, or what little he can see of them between the press of his and Iris’s bodies. “But, I don’t know. All that being said, I still think there’s a part of him that needs validation, needs someone to care about him the way he deserves to be cared about.” 

“And you want to be that person,” Iris supplies, head nodding in understanding. 

“Which doesn’t matter,” Barry repeats, forlorn. “We’re enemies.” 

Iris sighs. She runs a gentle hand down Barry’s neck and stoops to catch his eyes. “You may not be the enemies you think you are anymore, Barry,” she says softly. “Snart - Len - is a hero.” 

“For now,” Barry agrees, a grimness colouring his tone. “I believe in him, Iris. I do. I’m just not sure he believes in himself. The Legends are disbanded now. Who knows where he chooses to go from here.” 

“Maybe he just needs to know what choices he has,” Iris replies, optimism making her eyes sparkle. 

Before their conversation can continue, the song changes. The beat is slow and obscenely dirty, bass thundering through the speakers, the rumble settling into Barry’s bones. Caitlin and Cisco rush over excitedly, grabbing Iris by the arms and dragging her off to dance with them. Iris shouts out a quick apology to Barry, but ultimately follows the pair without protest. 

Barry looks around awkwardly, searching for another partner. Diggle and Lyla are cozied up happily, as are Felicity and Oliver. Ray’s parted ways from Sara and Kendra, a strong hand wrapped firmly around Mick’s neck, the other at his waist as they grind together. Thea and Jax are pressed close, exchanging long, wet kisses. Lisa and Laurel, too, are caught in a liplock of their own, hands wandering boldly along one another’s bodies.  

As they move, Mick and Ray knock lightly into Barry’s side, sending him stumbling forward. Strong arms catch him by the hips and he braces his hands on a firm chest. Looking up, Barry’s eyes meet Len’s, and his breath catches. They hold the intense stare for a long, changed moment.

Barry expects Len to tense up, pull away. Instead, the older man’s hands grip harder at his hips and pull him in until their bodies are flush together. Emboldened by Len’s actions, Barry lets his hands slide up and around the other man’s shoulders. His fingers scratch gently through Len’s short hair, curling possessively around the curve of his neck. Len tilts his head sideways, leaning into Barry’s touch. 

The rhythmic music pounding through the club’s speakers fades into a muted hum as Len’s presence takes over all of Barry’s senses. All Barry can hear is the harsh sound of Len’s breathing. All Barry can smell is the overwhelming musk of his sweat and the lingering notes of his aftershave. All Barry can feel is the heat of their bodies pressed together, impossibly close but still maddeningly far between the layers of their clothes. All he can see is the cool blue of the other man’s hypnotic eyes, mere slivers around his blown pupils. All he can taste is the anticipation on his tongue. 

He feels like he’s drowning in want, suffocating under the weight of his own desire. The way Len’s looking at him, eyes hungry and unrelenting, steals the breath from Barry’s lungs. The intoxicating contact of their eyes never breaks, even as their bodies press closer and closer together. Barry’s whole body becomes a livewire. He can feel the lightning building behind his eyes, inside his bones, begging to explode. 

Abruptly, the song changes, tempo picking up, mood shifting into something more playful than sensuous. Barry reels back, struggling to regain his composure. He can feel his hands twitching, speed flaring up uncontrollably. He looks up again and meets Len’s eyes. The look on the other man’s face takes Barry by surprise. He’s in part confused, but another, more restrained part himself seems almost hurt, and Barry’s chest tightens at the sight. 

He’s overwhelmed. It’s too hot. The music is too loud. There are too many people. So he shakes his head minutely and stumbles back, desperate for a way out. Ray’s gone back to dancing with Sara and Kendra, leaving Mick partnerless. The arsonist is quick to slide into the place Barry’s vacated, arm wrapping around Len’s waist. The contact breaks Len’s concentration, and he turns to face his partner, leaving Barry to escape without pursuit.  

Barry bursts into the club’s restroom, breathing heavy. He leans over one of the sinks, hands braced on the sides of the basin. He turns the faucet wide open and lets it run until the water is ice cold. Barry splashes a few handfuls onto his face, trying to slow his racing heart. He looks up at his reflection in the mirror and lets out a pitiful whine. He looks absolutely debauched, hair in a disarray, lips puffy from continually biting at them. 

Grabbing a fistful of paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, Barry wipes his face down. He takes several long, deep breaths, trying desperately to talk some sense into himself. Obviously, the attraction that’s been burning through Barry’s body for months on end is reciprocal. What’s less obvious is whether or not that means anything on an emotional level for Len. Because Barry is gone, absolutely and pitifully gone on that man. He wants commitment, and heartbreak, and lazy Sunday mornings in bed. He’s wants family dinners at Joe’s, and late nights fighting crime together. 

And he can’t stand to have Len look at him like that if that isn’t what he wants too. 

Taking one last, grounding breath, Barry pushes out of the restroom to rejoin the party. He doesn’t expect to run into Len in the hallway. As soon as their eyes meet, it occurs to Barry that he really didn’t do a very good job of getting his emotions in check at all. 

“Hey,” Barry croaks, awkward as hell. 

Len shuffles his feet. “Hey,” the older man says back. 

They stand silently together, the muffled music the only sound cutting through the tension. Barry can’t seem to take his eyes off of his feet.  

“Look,” Len says finally, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” 

Barry’s quick to shake his head, looking up to meet the other man’s eyes. “No,” he says. “You didn’t. I - I mean, I was into it.” 

Len smirks at Barry’s shy confession, but soon becomes serious again. “Still,” he continues. “I know I pushed things. I let myself get caught up in the moment. It was selfish of me, and I’m sorry.” 

The earnestness of Len’s apology, the vulnerability of his admission, is like a lightbulb going off over Barry’s head. He’s letting Barry get close, to his mind, and his body, and his soul. 

“I have the upper hand,” Barry says dumbly. He can’t stop it from blurting out as all the pieces fall into place. Len furrows his brow in confusion and so Barry tries again. “Your sister said something earlier, about needing to have the upper hand when you touch people. Except you don’t. I’m a metahuman. Without your Cold Gun, you’re powerless against me.” 

Barry takes a slow, deliberate step forward. He waits for Len to tense, but he doesn’t. He just stares at Barry with wide, uncertain eyes. Barry takes another gentle step and raises a hand, cradling the side of Len’s face, palm brushing the other man’s neck. 

“But you let me touch you anyway,” Barry whispers before leaning in and capturing Len’s lips in a deep kiss that’s saturated with emotion. Len kisses him back eagerly, holding him firm by the hips, tongue plunging into his mouth. It isn’t long before their exchange turns frantic, and Barry drags Len back into the somewhat privacy of the restrooms. 

Warm hands cup Barry by the ass and lift him onto the edge of one of the sinks. Barry wraps his legs around Len and drags him in, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Barry’s already hard, and when Len grinds against him, rough and insistent, he can feel that the other man is as well. 

Barry’s nails claw at the back of Len’s shirt as Len sucks on a sensitive point behind his ear. Len’s fingers work open the front of Barry’s button up. They ruck up Barry’s shirt to trace the outline of his abs, and Barry whimpers maddeningly, throwing his head back. It bumps against the mirror with a resounding  _ thud _ , but Barry doesn’t care. 

There is something he does care about, however. 

“Len, wait,” Barry pants, drawing back from the other man. Len looks up at him, eyebrows knitted, a little wary. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Barry asks, concern lacing his voice. 

Len immediately relaxes. “Nothing since Never Have I Ever,” he replies. He looks the speedster reassuringly in the eyes. “I’m not drunk, Barry.” 

Barry carefully examines the older man’s face. His eyes are clouded, but with lust, not alcohol. Same goes for the flush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, okay,” Barry concedes, nodding. Then, he leans forward to kiss Len again. Their hips reconnect, and the slow rocking resumes. Barry almost lightheaded, Len’s touch tilting his world on its axis. He pulls his lips away to suck in a shuddering breath, and Len’s kisses move down his neck, wet and electric. 

Suddenly, hands are at his belt, working it open, and Barry’s whole body arcs up. “Fuck, yes,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut. “Please.” 

Len laughs into his throat as he pulls the buckle open, making quick work of his button and zipper soon after. His hand slides into Barry’s boxers and grips him tight, and Barry can’t stop himself from crying out. 

“Len,” he mewls, hands moving from the other man’s shoulders to grip the basin of the sink. Their lips collide again in a frenzied kiss, energy high. As Len continues to stroke him, Barry can feel the lightning crackling inside of himself, pressure rising, until irrepressible vibrations rip through his entire body. 

The violent trembling catches Len off guard and he gasps in surprise. “Fucking Christ, Barry,” he pants. 

“I’m sorry,” Barry says, face flushing. He thought he’d gotten his spontaneous vibrating under control when he was dating Patty. But he never felt want like this with her. The intensity is overbearing, and Barry finds himself at the mercy of his body under Len’s every look, every touch.  

“Don’t be,” Len replies. He leans forward, kissing Barry deep and filthy, and begins stroking him twice as fast. All Barry can do is wail and pant and shake. He wants to grip onto Len’s shoulders but doesn’t trust his own strength. Instead, he keeps his hands clenched around the sink. 

“I’m gonna come,” Barry warns, breath hot in Len’s ear, embarrassingly fast. 

“That’s it,” Len replies, lips trailing up the side of Barry’s neck in a featherlight tease. “Come for me, Scarlet.” 

The commanding tone of Len’s voice sends Barry plummeting over the edge. He comes so hard his vision blurs, body arching up from sink and into the other man. The ceramic under Barry’s fingers cracks and crumbles with the force of his grip. Len carries him through his orgasm, touches gentle and soothing. 

When Barry manages to get his breathing back under control, he lurches forward and gives Len a long, slow kiss. Len pulls back enough to grab a handful of paper towel from the dispenser. He wets in lightly in one of the adjacent sinks and wipes them both off. 

Barry slides off the sink, brushing the ceramic sheepishly from his hands, and does up his jeans. He presses the heel of his hand teasingly into the bulge in the other man’s pants and Len’s breath hitches. 

“I have a hotel room booked here in the city,” Barry whispers, smile sly. “And I’d definitely like to return the favor.” He licks his suggestively and Len stares, transfixed. “Maybe even up the ante a little.” 

A sudden thought occurs to Barry, and he frowns. “Unless you want to stay. For Mick and Lisa.” 

Len shakes his head and gives Barry another quick kiss. “I doubt there’d be any purpose in that now,” he says. “Given that I just saw the Black Canary take my sister home.” 

Barry laughs and wraps a hand around Len’s neck. They exchange another few lazy kisses, noses bumping, tongues brushing. It feels perfect. 

“Plus,” Len says once they part again. “Mick’s got plenty of friends out there without little old me.” 

“Okay, then,” Barry says excitedly. His eyes catch the broken sink and he grimaces. “Maybe I should go apologize first, though.” 

Len chuckles, pressing his lips to Barry’s temple. “Trust me, Kid,” he says. “No one’s gonna want the nitty-gritty details of how you broke it. They’ll put two and two together just fine on their own.” 

Barry smiles up at Len and huffs a laugh. He shuffles forward and wraps his arms around the older man, burying his nose in the curve of Len’s neck. 

“I guess this is where we take our leave, then,” Barry whispers, lips brushing softly against Len’s skin. 

“I guess it is,” Len agrees. 

Barry chuckles again. Then, in a flash, they’re gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/).


End file.
